


Sometimes Deader is Better

by shipcat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Humor, Drabble Collection, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hitman AU, Horror, M/M, One Shot Collection, Religious Fanaticism, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Zombie Combo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: A series of Zombie Combo drabbles/one-shots.Table of Contents:1. "You almost shot me! Again!"2. "We had a deal."3. “You weren’t so bad today." Kakuzu gets anxious. Hidan comforts him.4. "I'm not wearing that."5. "This was proof of his faith!"6. “Tell me what you think of this texture.” Kakuzu teases Hidan with lingerie. (NSFW)7. "It looks good on you." Hidan loses his head for good and still manages to annoy Kakuzu.8. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you.” Hidan gets smashed; Kakuzu is the (un)lucky designated driver.9. "I'll pray for you." Hidan discovers something interesting about his partner. Something he can take advantage of.10. "They say that god resides in even the lowest of us.” Kakuzu is Jashin all along.11. "You’re giving me a migraine." An everyday Jashinist sacrifice gets interrupted.12. "I do bad things. I do them well.” Hidan treats himself to a little TLC - torturing at leisure, with cigarettes.13. "Then confess." Father Kakuzu is tormented by his (least) favorite parishioner.





	1. "You almost shot me! Again!"

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request by @dokucchi - ❝You almost shot me! Again!❞ for Zombi Combi??? Hitman AU maybe????

“Kakuzu!” He yelled into his ear piece. “You almost shot me! Again!”

The fire escape rattled as Hidan sprinted up the side of the building, hauling a gym bag stuffed with knives, a baseball bat and the will to live.

 _“To be more precise,”_ his ear crackled, an amused voice rumbling into Hidan’s head. He flung his bag across the alley to another building, and then jumped after it, gray coat fluttering behind him. _“I did shoot you. Again.”_

“Are you fucking serious -” The roof crumbled beneath his feet. “ - oh shit!” 

Muttering under his breath, Hidan scrambled up the wall, scraping his hands on the rough, fireblasted brick. Without pause, he grabbed his bag and kept running, more than aware of the danger creeping after him.

Just as he leapt into the air, a man burst from the stairwell in desert camouflage.  For a moment, Hidan froze - five feet and twelve stories from a closed casket funeral - then, turning from his enemy, he laughed, and threw himself through the broken window of an abandoned office. The soldier lifted his gun, prepared to pull the trigger…

… and suddenly found himself with a bullet through his head.

Almost a mile away, Kakuzu scoffed, readjusted his sniper scope, and continued to pick off Hidan’s pursuers. “I am completely serious,” he said, watching with some relief as Hidan emerged from the building. “Check your left ear piece.”

Confusion spread across his face, visible even from Kakuzu’s nest of guns and ammunition, as Hidan raised his hand to his ear, and found a hole that wasn’t there before. His face glowed bright red.

 _“You shot off my fucking ear! You motherfucking - cocksucker …”_  

“This is what happens when the decoy gets in the sniper’s way.”

 _“ … son of a fucking bitch! You shitty fucking -”_ He huffed and puffed and cursed. 

Kakuzu lowered the volume on his headset until the shrieks were reduced to a not so annoying whisper, then shot another soldier that attempted to sneak up on the irate man.

Even Hidan’s lung capacity had a limit. After ten minutes of yelling and running, he finally quieted down, complaining, instead, of a stitch in his side. More concerning, however, was the abnormal amount of blood drenching the collar of his suit jacket. A neck wound, one - no, _two_ fingers deep, pulsed with every step he took.  

It made Kakuzu’s hands itch for a sewing kit.

He switched his headpiece back on. “Are you done yet?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Hidan paused, caught his breath. _“Asshole.”_

“You are currently one klick away from the rendezvous point.” Kakuzu broke apart his sniper rifle and carefully set the parts into a small, metal briefcase. “I am leaving the nest and heading to meet you. ETA three minutes.” Surely, Hidan could fend for himself for that long.

_“Fine, whatever. See you there.”_

“And Hidan - ”

_“The fuck you want?_

“Don’t die.”


	2. "We had a deal."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @spectralost, who requested a Drabble based on the prompts "we had a deal" and "I signed up for a fun adventure in a creepy mansion, not demons trying to murder me". 
> 
> Kakuzu and Hidan explore a haunted house with disastrous consequences.

“We had a deal,” Kakuzu says, oblivious to the evil swirling around them.

“Fuck you!” Hidan spits, eyes wide as hands sprout from the dark persian carpet. “Fuck you and fuck your stupid deal! I signed up for a fun adventure in a creepy mansion, not -” He kicks away the fingers crawling up his ankles. “- not demons trying to _murder_ me!“

“Didn’t you say that you could talk to the dead?” Kakuzu snorts, and holds up a camera. “For once, your loud mouth is useful. Talk.”

Hidan gives him a deadpan stare. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He gestures towards the mass of limbs and teeth. “Can’t you see that!?”

“I see…” A shadow leans over Kakuzu, four pale faces clicking and chittering. He doesn’t blink. “I see that you’re wasting my time.”

Kakuzu pans around the room. The camera’s recording light winks at the monsters, red and curious.

“Seriously, man. Let’s make like bananas and split.”  He crosses his arms, irritated. He wants - no, he _needs_ them to get out of his hellhole now. The dead weren’t one to be fucked with; demons even less so. If they didn’t leave soon, …

Well, they might die too.

Half-made, ghoulish creatures flutter and scritter around them. Black cobwebs hover in the corner, twitching at their every movement. Kakuzu is silent.

Hidan rolls his eyes, and turns towards the other. “Oi bastard did you hear me -” He freezes.

Plastic shards of the camera clatter down on the floor, wet and sticky. Kakuzu gives him a dark look, face contorted in fury. The small veins in his eyes have burst open, and two twin tracks of red run down from each eye. **_“If you aren’t going to help me…”_**

He stalks towards Hidan, then shakily breaks away snarling. A multitude of voices rip apart Kakuzu’s throat, angry, sad, cheerful, dismayed; until, at last, Kakuzu’s own voice escapes, in barely a whisper,

“Run.”


	3. “You weren’t so bad today."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if Kakuzu actually had horrible anxiety in his youth and he’s gotten better but sometimes it still gets him and his chest aches and he feels nervous if there are too many people around. Hidan becomes the anchor he uses to not focus so hard on the outside overstimulation if they have to travel in close quarters with more people than should fit, say on a train or boat and Hidan has the best little stories and tricks to distract him." Headcanon by @reapersperdition

Hidan scratched at his neck.  

The skin was red, visibly irritated by the black, wriggling stitches that were currently attaching his head to his body. One of the thin black tendrils, annoyed at the invading fingers, actually had the nerve to _wrap around his fucking spine and squeeze,_ so much so that he stopped in the middle of the road, paralyzed from the neck down.

God _damn_ it.

“Oi, Kakuzu! Your dumbass stitches are acting up again!”

His partner barely glanced at him. “I told you not to mess with them.”

“Come on, they were itchy as fuck! I would be better off without a head, seriously.”

“Hmm. Don’t tempt me.”

“Ehh? If you aren’t going to help me, you might as well kill me!”

“Quit whining.”  Rolling his eyes, Kakuzu stepped up to his partner, arm detaching from his wrists and revealing dark, swirling strings. One hand propped up his body, while the other one grabbed Hidan’s head.

“Not the hair! Not the hair!” Hidan hissed as the stitches slithered out of his neck and into his partner’s body.  The one stitch that had wrapped around his spine gave him one last, spiteful scratch as it exited the wound. “Fucking bitch!”

Kakuzu tilted Hidan’s head back and forth, inspecting the healing wound to determine that it was _not,_ in fact, going to fall off.  “Don’t go running around and lose your head,” he warned, and then quickly turned and walked away.

Hidan incredulously stared after him. After warily testing his motor skills ( _damn, that one stitch really fucked him up_ ), he ran, quickly catching up to his partner.

“I don’t _try_ to lose my head, jackass. It just sort of, uh, happens.”

“It _happens_ because you _let_ it happen.”

“It _happens_ because _you_ cut off my fucking head!”

“Be grateful. Weren’t you the one that wanted me to teach you about immortality?”

“Oi, fuck you Kakuzu! That doesn’t mean you should try to kill me all the damn time!”

Kakuzu looked down the road, gaze flickering to the various people now approaching their location, silently evaluating their threat level. He noticed everything – from the cry of the birds over head; to the insects that skittered by as they walked to their latest assignment; to the way that the missing nin from the Village of Hot Water seethed  as his partner expertly ignored him. 

“Hidan,” he softly said, after an envoy of merchants and their bodyguards passed them by, “Shut up.”

Blood boiling, Hidan prepared to unleash a flurry of threats – then, seeing the expression on Kakuzu’s face, his mouth shut with a click.  

There was obviously something wrong with his partner.

It was in the way that his fists clenched and his steps slowed to almost a snail’s pace. The ironed cloth over his face suddenly seemed more wrinkled, so much so that Hidan could tell that Kakuzu was not only scowling - he was freaking the fuck out.

Not that Hidan could blame him. As they approached the city walls, more and more people appeared on the road. Traveling families, lone ninja, distinguished nobles and wretched bandits, dozens upon dozens of pairs of eyes staring in horror at the two wearing red clouds.

 _They're possessed by demons,_ they whispered to each other, fixated on Kakuzu’s glowing eyes. Their heads swiveled to Hidan, whose rosary swung against his chest with every step forward. _No, not demons,_ they decided. _It’s black magic for sure!_

“Say that to my face, you bloody heathens!”  Two seconds away from giving the unfortunate onlookers a very excellent sermon on Jashinism, he peeked at his partner.  Kakuzu wrinkled his nose – the little bit that Hidan could see between his mask and his forehead protector – and made a throat slitting gesture with his hand.   _If your head falls off, it stays off,_ he silently said. Hidan bit his tongue so hard it bled, but, otherwise obeyed.

Despite his silence, however, the crowds sensed the waves of killing intent pouring from the missing nin. All at once, they decided that they were late for a very important appointment, and quickly evacuated the area. 

 _Fucking pussies,_ Hidan thought to himself. _Fucking Kakuzu,_ he amended, glaring at his partner – who was now observing the departing persons, shoulders slumped with relief.

Of course, the worst had yet to come.

As they entered the city gates, they were immediately assaulted by a variety of sensations - bright colors, gleaming buildings, and most critically, loud people.  Hidan whooped in glee as he caught the sweet, rare scent of slow roasting ribs, mouth watering as he imagined himself stealing them for dinner later. A few children ran around them, oblivious to the danger they were in, escaping down a crowded street, giggles trailing after them. He actually gave a little smile at their laughter, ringing gently like church bells. It reminded him of the day he committed himself to the Church of Jashin.

A few minor assholes actually jostled up against Hidan and he nonchalantly broke their wrists when they tried to pickpocket him – not that he actually had money, mind you, but it was the principle of the thing.

Kakuzu _did_ have their limited rations of money and food, but the miser was clutching his chest, frozen as he attempted to mentally catalogue the faces that passed by, identifying possible escape routes and analyzing various battle strategies that would complement the urban landscape –

Well, Hidan didn’t know what he was thinking, but the old bastard was clearly too preoccupied to protect their shit, so Hidan stuck close to Kakuzu like a rash on a hooker. He made sure to snarl at anyone that dared to walk too close.

He sharply elbowed his partner. “Ne ne, Kakuzu-chan, you seem a little lost there. Is it my turn to pick out the inn?”

No response.

“In that case, I’ll get us the _best_ inn. With a hot spring, room service, sexy French maids – the whole shebang! Maybe even an in-house bar so we can get some drinks after our mission. We’ll be able to finally let loose!” Hidan slapped Kakuzu’s back. “Of course, we’ll get separate rooms because I am definitely planning on _getting some_ and your wrinkly ass is not going to cockblock me _this time._ ” He sneered. “It might be extremely expensive, but I think that we can write off this _fun, teambuilding exercise_ as a business expense. I don’t think that Pein in the ass will mind, do you?”

“Hidan,” Kakuzu finally said. “Please. _Shut up._ ”

He waved his arm carelessly. “Nah, don’t feel like it. You’ll have to suffer.” Instead Hidan half-dragged and half-coaxed his partner to a more secluded area, prattling on and on about inane and absurd things all the while.

For example, the one time his village had given him a mission in the Land of Winds but they gave him shitty directions, so _of course_ he ended up all the way in the Village Hidden in the Mist (“It was _very_ breezy there, okay? I got confused!”); the other time when he took a mission with Tobi (it was a disaster, seriously); and the look on the Yukage’s face when Hidan slaughtered her family right before her eyes (a memory that made him proud as much as it pissed him _off_ ).

As his stories grew more morbidly descriptive, the crowds again strayed away, wary of the eternally young man that waxed lyrical about slaughter to a giant shade who, covered head to toe in black cloth, appeared to be Death himself. 

They eventually wandered down to an inn of Hidan’s choosing – not too crappy, but not so pricy that Kakuzu would complain. He began preaching the strategic benefits of walls that weren’t paper thin, and the miser handed over the room money without another word.

“Today was a good day,” Hidan yawned, leaping into his bed. “You didn’t kill me, like once. It’s a world fucking record.”

“You weren’t so bad today,” Kakuzu responded. His eyes were more open now, with more green visible than red, no longer filled with that stress that made all five of his hearts want to explode. He didn’t smile, or say thank you, but that was to be expected of a man like him.

 _You weren’t so bad today…_ that was as good as it was going to get.

Hidan let out a self-satisfied chuckle and rolled over. He passed out with prayers on his lips, privately delighted that his bed was roach-free.

And that was, as they say, that.


	4. "I'm not wearing that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidan finds a place where he and Kakuzu can spend the night for free, but only Jashinists are allowed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request fill for @prussianknight9 and @imevilandaheathen.
> 
> Prompt: "I'm not wearing that" and "Don't be fucking rude".

The rosary dangles between Hidan’s fingers, circle and triangle glinting in the burnt lantern light. Kakuzu barely glances at the metal coiling around the other’s wrist. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Don’t be so fucking rude, man.” His partner shoves the pendant into his face, beads chiming lightly. “Just take it!”

“Not interested.”

The two Akatsuki members stalk down the dark corridors, shooting vicious glares at each other. A couple of monks shuffle by them, bloodshot gazes following Kakuzu.

Hidan scowls, muttering something inane about “fucking converts with no goddamn manners’’ and shooed the monks away, threatening to “rip out their eyes and shove them down your scaly lizard throats.”

Said fucking converts saw the look on his face and scurried away, leaving him and Kakuzu in a narrow, empty hall, where Hidan leans towards his partner, with poison purple eyes.

 _“See this shitty fucking temple?”_ He murmurs under his breath. “This is sacred ground. You know what that means?” A pause. Kakuzu does not hold his breath.

“That means that nonbelieving ass munchers like you are not allowed, forbidden, banned, prohibited, a _big fucking no-no._ See them?” Hidan gestures at the corner, where several cloaked figures hover, red-stained hands clutching at rosaries and daggers. “Those cumstains may _look_ like they’re just swinging their dicks around, but if they find out you’re a dirty money humping heathen they will fuck your wrinkly ass up and down the Land of Fire. _Seriously.”_

Kakuzu narrows his eyes at the monks - and in the moment that he was distracted, a heavy weight sinks around his neck. He whips his head towards his partner, two seconds from painting the entire temple in a fresh coat of crimson.

Before he could say anything, do anything, or murder anyone, Hidan abruptly yanks the rosary down and shushes him. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re a heathen or the goddamn patron saint of some catholic cucklord. You’re in a Jashinist sanctuary, so you gotta look like a fucking Jashinist, I swear to god.” He looks down at the cursed pendant pressing down upon his partner’s chest, and he smirks like the little shit he is.

 _I’m going to kill you,_ Kakuzu internally seethes. Underneath his mask, the stitches around his mouth squirm and wriggle in displeasure while Hidan smirks at the cursed pendant. _But that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? Idiot._

Therefore, instead of ripping Hidan into pieces, he snatches the rosary and hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps…” Kakuzu rolls the beads between his fingers, as if to judge the weight of the metal. “Perhaps if I melt this down, it could have some value to me.”

 

“Ehh?” Hidan’s expressions flit from self-satisfaction, to shock, to rage. “No fucking way! That’s my rosary, you slit-faced bastard!” He lunges for the rosary, but Kakuzu twists away, arms sliding under the strike and jerking him up by the collar of his clothes. 

“You once told me that religion is profitable,” he murmurs. He bends down, inch by inch, until he is so close that Hidan’s angry and erratic puffs of air seep through Kakuzu’s mask and onto his face. 

“I’ve come to collect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the dialogue in this one was a lot of fun! ^_^ 
> 
> I'm currently taking requests. Please feel free to drop me an ask on my Tumblr - @thatshipcat.


	5. "This was proof of his faith."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immortal duo are ambushed while on their way to a mission. Hidan manages to curse all of their enemies at the same time. This is what happens next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from an RP with @phantom-wired.

Clouds cleared from the battlefield, revealing the wide-eyed faces of the enemy shinobi. Light glinted off of their forehead protectors, proclaiming them to be Yugakure ninja. By the way they trembled at the sight of the white and black marks that spread across his skin, they were fully aware of his powers.

“Tch.” Hidan’s lip curled. No doubt these were the cowards that refused to fight him when he left the village. Did they really think that they could try to ambush him later? Ha!

“Fucking _weaklings._ ” He glanced back at Kakuzu. “These are my kills, got it? Don’t interfere.” He raised the spike to his chest and _stabbed_. One ninja clutched his heart, and fell to the ground.

He twisted the weapon into his lungs; another found themselves breathless.

“Ah,” He groaned. “Oh, _Jashin_ ,” he praised, eyes rolling into the back of his head. This was it! The pain of dying! The ecstasy of rebirth! Pleasure zapping through his spine! Oh yes, oh yes, yes, oh _yes_ …!

He ripped out the spear, cloak shredded, and thrust it into himself again and again and again. Their pulse faded away; his own heart restarted. Their brains slowly choked without oxygen; his own lungs filled with air.

The blade sank deeper and harder - his jaw went slack - and he turned his face to the heavens and laughed, barreling through cycles of death and rebirth.

This was proof of his faith … This was his sacrifice! This was his gift to his _god!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With one last thrust, Hidan gasped and sank to his knees, visions flooding through his head - seeing himself collapse through the eyes of a doomed man. Their anger and dismay shot through his bloodstream, mingling side-by-side with his own satisfied pulse of his heart. His head was consumed by their thoughts, like -

_\- hurtshurtshurts - who will take care of Mieri now? - I don’t want to die!_

“Your time’s up,” he heard, as soft as a scream. “Jashin damn it,” rasped, tears streaming down his face. “You bastard. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

 _\- why did the Yukage send us to_ die _- _oh God, oh God,_ PLEASE make it stop -_

He fell onto his back, spear sticking up into the air. He closed his eyes, running mental fingers over the souls of his sacrifices, their memories playing through his mind as clearly as if they were his own.

_\- the gentle press of a lover’s kiss - small fingers wrapped around her hand, an infant’s smile - the joy of a bright summer day - gold ring in his hand as he gazed at her face - graduating from the shinobi academy, chest swollen with pride -_

Hidan muttered incoherent verses under his breath, mind distant. What would it be like, he wondered, to experience this joy for himself rather than through the death of others?

Sympathy, as always, was a sacred and profane thing. Though it was, no doubt, a virtue, it always had the nasty tendency of making him think blasphemous things. But, surely, Jashin would not blame him for entertaining this sick notion because of how ridiculous it was. Him? Happy?

He chuckled to himself. Then immediately frowned, noticing Kakuzu rummaging through the clothes of their enemies, pulling out ryo, weapons and various traveling supplies. “The fuck you doing?” he croaked.


	6. “Tell me what you think of this texture.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, pre-established relationship, NSFW; Kakuzu and Hidan go to the mall, and Kakuzu tries on some clothes for his significant annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request by @syndellwins: "Kuzu teasing Hidan wearing a pink see-through thong and pink stripped thigh highs."

“KA-KU-ZUUUUUU!” Hidan pounded at the dressing room door. “What the hell is taking you so long?!? You’re trying on jackets, not a suit of fucking body armor!!” He angrily checked his FitBit for the time, and, lo and behold, Kakuzu had been trying on clothes for thirty minutes, during which Hidan accumulated over 3,000 steps while angrily pacing throughout the store.

“Give me a couple more minutes.” Hidan could hear the exasperation in his voice - as if Kakuzu were the one that had been dragged to the mall and forced to carry shopping bags, buy them lunch, and watch his boyfriend haggle with the store clerks over the price of the clearance rack, and not Hidan.

“Fuck you, man!” Hidan kicked at the door, not caring if he had caused a scene. Kakuzu had already embarrassed him enough that day, and now it was _his_ goddamn turn to return the favor. “You’ve been in there so fucking long, I bet your dusty old dick fell off and crawled under the clothing racks!!!”

Kakuzu sighed and rolled his eyes so hard that Hidan heard them.

The door clicked and swung open - one, two, three inches. Hidan burst through the door, prepared to give his boyfriend a sermon on the importance of not wasting his time.

“You motherfucker - ” his eyes widened as he took in the sight of Kakuzu wearing nothing but a scarf, striped stockings, and a garterbelt, all with pink and red patterns. But the main attraction - the pièce de la _fucking_ résistance - was that goddamn thong, wrapped so tightly around Kakuzu that it was see-through wherever his erection pressed against the shimmering fabric.

Hidan’s eyes followed it closely, entranced, until it finally disappeared as Kakuzu leaned close to him, reached over his shoulder, and closed the door behind him. Hidan jolted upwards as the thong brushed against the front of his jeans, staining the dark denim with the taller man’s precum.  

“Oh, you _motherfucker,_ ” he gasped, scowl dropping from his face, “you were fapping in here the whole time!”

“Disgusting,” Kakuzu snorted derisively and pushed Hidan into the door of the dressing room, his scarf now so near that it tickled Hidan’s nose. “I’m not a deviant like you.”

“You’re shitting me!” Hidan laughed as Kakuzu ground his arousal into his hip bone. Outside the door, he heard another customer complain to a retail worker that there were no free dressing rooms, and felt a rush of excitement flood through his body. Briefly, he allowed himself to fantasize about getting caught - the store manager opening the door to find Hidan and Kakuzu rutting against each  together in a frenzy, cum and clothes dripping from each corner of this godforsaken dressing room, Kakuzu’s furious fucking face - and moaned, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, where he noticed a sheet of paper covering the security camera.

“You lying ass!” Hidan exclaimed, much too loudly, arching his back as Kakuzu pinched him sharply in the ribs. He continued, voice lowered, hips rolling, “you’re so fucking hard right now, you were totally jacking it. Admit it.”

Kakuzu confessed nothing, but instead nipped at Hidan’s neck, grabbing his hand and yanking it down.

“Tell me what you think of this texture,” he demanded, rubbing Hidan’s hand against his bright pink and red silk stockings. Hidan quickly took the hint and started to massage the tan, muscular legs, working his way up towards the ass.

“It’s so soft,” Hidan panted, hooking his fingers into Kakuzu’s garter belt and pulled him closer, pressed them together, rubbing the thong against his own tented pants. “So fucking soft. I want to squeeze my dick between your thighs, ride you so fucking hard that I can’t see straight.” One of his hands cupped and caressed Kakuzu’s rear while the other fumbled at his own belt.

Kakuzu swatted him away and began pumping Hidan’s erection, gradually increasing the pressure until Hidan didn’t know whether he should scream in pain or pleasure.

“So, you like the lingerie,” Kakuzu breathed, lips brushing against Hidan’s ear.

“ _Yes,”_ he hissed, electricity shooting down his stomach, knees trembling.

Abruptly, Kakuzu lifted himself away, dressing himself in slacks. He scanned over Hidan - his flushed lips, disheveled clothing - and sneered, before crushing Hidan’s heart with five devastating words:

“Then buy it for me.”


	7. "It looks good on you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their first fight with the Leaf Shinobi, Asume cuts off and steals Hidan’s head, leaving Kakuzu with the sentient, headless corpse of Hidan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "100 Ways to Say I Love You," prompt challenge, Syndellwins requested "it looks good on you." This request inspired me to write the first part of one of my WIPs.

* * *

 

“It looks good on you,” Kakuzu remarked as he cauterized Hidan’s neck. “You know, headless. They say it takes off ten pounds - maybe seven for you.” He paused, wiping his fingers on his partner’s cloak, as he mentally calculated the weight of a human brain.

“Perhaps six,” he amended, inspecting the bruised and broken body. “…five.”

Decapitated at the moment, Hidan crossed his arms and quietly fumed.

“Quit complaining,” Kakuzu said to the gaping neck wound as he slapped a patch of gauze over some of the smaller burns on Hidan’s chest. He did not bother to clean them. Disinfectant was too expensive to waste on immortals, and if Hidan hated it anyways, then fine - let him rot.

Dew dripped down the spine of the jungle canopy onto the two Akatsuki members - Hidan’s mutilated body splayed across a tangle of vines, with Kakuzu kneeling in front of him and steadily putting his partner back together piece by piece.

His skin became slick with humidity and blood, so much so that Kakuzu had to once again clean his hands on the other’s clothes before he could tend to the more pressing injuries - the several holes where he had been stabbed with that Leaf ninja’s shadow technique.

Hidan tolerated the doctoring for an additional thirty seconds, then sixty. At the three minute mark, he began twitching, hands drumming at his forearms, foot tapping on the forest floor. After six minutes, he swiped at the rosary chain dangling from Kakuzu’s pocket, only for Kakuzu to slap his hands away.

“Sit still,” he grumbled, “I’m almost done.” Nonetheless, Hidan made several more attempts at regaining his possessions, and each time Kakuzu rebuffed him with increasing irritation.  

‘Done’ was ten minutes later, when Kakuzu sat back, pulled down his too-warm mask and inhaled deeply. Though the smell of burnt flesh stung his nose, the fresh, outside air extinguished some of the anger simmering away inside him.

 **“** _So it seems that the rumors of Hidan’s death were greatly exaggerated…_ **”** An ageless young man slid from the foliage, half light, half dark, and all teeth. **“How disappointing.”**

“Zetsu,” He nodded in greeting.

Zetsu ignored him in favor of eyeing his partner with curiosity. “ _Can he even…?”_ He waved a hand in the space where the Jashinist’s skull used to be, and did not bat an eye when Hidan leapt up, scythe in hand, and decapitated Zetsu.

“ _Ah,”_ the head said, floating in the air before disappearing in a whirl of grass.

Zetsu shortly materialized from the trees unharmed. _“To think that someone can survive…”_  The venus flytrap closed slowly, softly, around his head, until finally only a small part of his face peeked out at Kakuzu. _“He’s amazing,”_ he said, _“_ **an abomination,”** his darker half added.

“It’s not surprising he can survive without one,” Kakuzu deadpanned. “considering he is a cockroach.

There was a glint of red, a hint of black, the flick of a middle finger as Hidan stomped to his side and punched him in the shoulder. Automatically Kakuzu made to return the attack with a jab to the nose - only to realize, as his fist awkwardly hung in the air where Hidan’s face used to be, that this was no longer a sufficient punishment for his partner’s shenanigans. Even Hidan glared at him (as much as a headless body could glare), whole body tense, arms up to block the strike that did not happen.

It was all very awkward, to say the least.

Hidan leapt out of the way before Kakuzu could follow through on his assault. He jammed his hands towards his partner, the jungle, and then made a slicing motion at his own neck, as if to say, ‘ _You fucking whorebag! I’m not the dumbass that let a couple of rookies take off with my head!’_

Kakuzu scoffed, _“You_ were the one that told me not to interfere, and look what happened - you lost your temper, became reckless, and completely lost your head.”

An embarrassed flush burst across Hidan’s collar, trailed down his chest, and under the torn edge of his cloak.

Zetsu hummed, leaves opening wide. _“Where is his head, anyways?”_ His pale yellow eyes burned with snake-like curiosity. **“Can we eat him?”**

Hidan gripped his scythe so tightly that his fingers were bleached a bony white. A vein pulsed in his neck, threatening to break through the seal Kakuzu had carefully seared onto his head wound. Humiliated. Indignant. _Bristling_ with fury, so much so that one of his stitches popped open, splashing dark crimson down his front.

This was not the first time he had been forced to redo his work because of his partner’s inability to sit still, but, as long as Hidan remained useful to him, it would not be the last.

After mulling over these thoughts, Kakuzu’s bloody gaze slid towards Zetsu, eyes narrowing. “Go find your dinner elsewhere,” he answered.

Hidan’s shoulders slumped in something resembling relief - or, maybe, disappointment.

“I’ve invested too much in this partner to let him become plant fertilizer.”

* * *

 

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it~!  ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

I plan to make this oneshot into a multichaptered fic, so please feel free to leave kudos or comments letting me know what you think of this~

Catch me on Tumblr [@thatshipcat](https://thatshipcat.tumblr.com).


	8. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @konohagakureship: “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you,” KakuHida.
> 
> Hidan gets smashed; Kakuzu is the (un)lucky designated driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickly uploading this short drabble at work, hope you enjoy!!

 

* * *

“You’re, seriously…” He clings to Kakuzu’s shirt, silver hair ungelled and flung over his face haphazardly. “The hottest sonuvabitch I’ve ever laid eyes on. Didja know that, ‘kuzu? I bet you did, you cocky fucker.”    
  
Kakuzu sighs, readjusts his grip on Hidan.  
  
“If you puke on me, you’re paying for the dry cleaning.”

Hidan hiccups, which Kakuzu takes as a yes. He reeks of several types of older spirits, the kind that would kill a lesser man. How unfortunate it is, then, that Hidan is immortal. 

“Fuck dry cleaning, man. No one else came t’ get me when I called. You’re a dick but like. Nice. Nice but a dick. Nice dick.” Hidan leans heavily against Kakuzu as the elder man ruffles through his pockets for car keys. “I’ll buy - I’ll buy you dinner. And a movie. And the world.”  
  
“You have a negative balance in your bank account,” Kakuzu reminds him.  
  
“Then I’ll get a loan!”  
  
“You’ll go bankrupt.”  
  
Drunk Hidan is not deterred. “A hundred loans! A hundred dates!” He devolves into belligerent, nonsensical mumbling, before mentioning something about finally getting to third base.  
  
Kakuzu decides to humor him.  
  
“I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you,” he sarcastically says.  
  
Hidan looks up at him with wide, watery eyes. “Both. Both is good.”


	9. "I'll pray for you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidan will do anything for Kakuzu (even spare a life) but not without fucking around a little. He discovers something odd about his partner in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon who sent me the most amazing KakuHida song, #1 Crush by Absolute Garbage. 
> 
> Yes, Hidan is garbage. Yes, I love him. Yes, he's a bit yandere and zealous in this one. I hope you enjoy anyways.
> 
> I always like exploring different variations of the Zombi Combi's powers, which were not completely shown in canon. In a previous chapter, Hidan can sacrifice more than one person at once; in this chapter, Kakuzu's sutures come with unexpected side effects. I was gonna add a smutty extension, but in the end opted to keep it mostly gen. Anyway, read on!

In a forest on the borders of the Lands of Waves and Fire, a criminal trembles, wrapped in the metal coil of a three bladed scythe. A silver haired man stretches above him, admiring how the maple leaves drip like blood.

“Ah!” Hidan arches his back with a crack. “Fall is really the best season, isn’t it? When all things come to an end.” He looks down, eyes reflecting the crimson autumnal hue. “You’re lucky, though. The headhunters want you alive. So you’re not gonna die. Not yet, at least.” He barks out a laugh and flops down, sitting on top of the bounty. “You should be grateful it was me that caught you, and not Kakuzu!”

A brisk air breezes by, rustling pale branches. 

“...where hell is he, anyways? So damn slow...” With a sigh, Hidan leans forward, resting his stitch-marked face on his hands—a souvenir from a week-old battle, where someone had tried to cut out his tongue and only half succeeded.

 _‘I should leave you like this,’_ Kakuzu had said, even as a gaping maw of thread spilled from his arm and onto Hidan’s cheek, biting as they healed. After, Kakuzu jammed a tattooed hand between his teeth, Hidan choking as strings flooded his mouth, spit and blood spilling over his lips - pain, then pleasure, then pain again. The taste of copper and dust gushed down his throat, through his lungs, and—and—

—and then his tongue had been reattached, his mouth decorated in snug little stitches which made speech uncomfortable but not impossible. Kakuzu had chastened him to be more careful and touched up a couple more wounds, Hidan fuming the entire time. The too hot, too spicy flavor of old enemies, lingered on his tongue to this day.

It was this taste that Hidan savored as he waited for Kakuzu, spinning his pike in his hands as he watched the trees die. He idly wondered if plants could feel pain; and if they were valid as a sacrifice.

No, he decided. Culling oneself was not a mark of a victim but a sign of a faithful follower, shedding excess parts in the name of god. Plants and animals alike knew to submit to the natural law of death; it was only humans that questioned their standing; humans that denied their suffering, and whom tried to defy the will of god. Only humans needed to be taught a lesson of fear and sacrifice and piss and moaning.

This is what Hidan hummed to himself, in little prayers from half-remembered hymns: There was no point in slaying those that could not scream, at any rate. They would surely not appreciate the bliss that came after.

_Amen._

* * *

Sometime later, Kakuzu cuts through the reddened wood, briefcase in hand and unconscious woman on his shoulder. Her arms dangle at his side, nubs where the hands should be.

“Yo, Kakuzu,” Hidan gives his partner a small salute. “Run into some trouble?”

There is a large tear in the back side of his cloak, his mask hanging limply to the side so that when Kakuzu scowls, Hidan sees a thin line etched from ear to ear: a glasgow smile, just for him.

His mood sours when the bounty groans, drawing Kakuzu’s attention away from his partner. “Shut the fuck up,” Hidan hisses, punching the bounty in the side.

“Your bounty is still alive.” Kakuzu states, in a tone somewhere between impressed and incredulous.

"Oh, no! Really?” Hidan jabs the bounty again. “I didn’t fucking notice.”

Kakuzu’s mouth opens, then snaps shut. He turns away, and setting the unconscious woman down on the ground. His right arm opens wide with strings. 

“Kinky,” Hidan comments.

Kakuzu glances at him yet again says nothing.

“If you have something to say, spit it out.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Kakuzu repeats, slowly, as he ties the woman up in a series of convoluted knots. “What will your god have to say about that?”

“Your god, too,” Hidan retorts, “and He hasn’t said shit. I did not fight intending to commit sacrifice, I did not spill blood in vain, or cause pointless suffering. I knocked ‘em out, wrapped ‘em up, and waited for you to finish your mark.”

“So you lounged about while I took out the stronger target.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Hidan flaps his hand dismissively. ”But you lost a heart, didn’t you? Don’t blame me if you’re losing your touch.”

Hidan leers as Kakuzu attempts to temper his facial expression. The man is cold on the surface, but there is anger there, swimming through the flesh. Something moves through his neck, behind his cheeks. For a split second Hidan hopes Kakuzu will snap, baring his dirty, heathen soul for the world to condemn.

He changes the subject instead. “Get off the bounty so I can tie him up properly.”

“Tch, whatever.” Hidan doesn’t try to hide his disappointment. He slinks off the body, switching places with Kakuzu so that he can begin working.

“You should seriously be more careful, _Ka-ku-zu_ \- our bounties are wanted alive.” He pokes his foot into Kakuzu’s mark, watching the earth run red beneath her. “If they bleed out, you won’t get jack shit.”

Hidan can _feel_ the pang of humiliation shoot through Kakuzu’s body. He runs his tongue across his lips, his gums, stitches rubbing against the roof of his mouth, and wonders if his partner can feel that, too.

Bent over the bounty, Kakuzu doesn’t react. There is a black hole under his shoulder blade that wasn’t there two hours prior, and three masks instead of the usual four. Something is lurking there, horned and grotesque. It stares at Hidan with green ceramic eyes—Kakuzu’s own heart.

“Yo,” Hidan waves at it.

“You already said that,” Kakuzu grunts in response.

“I wasn’t talking to you - well. Kind of." 

Still turned away, his partner murmurs something about not making sense. His heart bitterly glares at Hidan before sinking back into Kakuzu. Hidan licks his teeth again, and it reappears, eyes winking up and down Kakuzu’s spine, cautious and wary. Hidan cannot help but gape.

Kakuzu stands up, brushing dirt from his cloak, jaw tightened with displeasure. He turns around and pauses, foregoing usual threat in favor of giving Hidan a somewhat odd look.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Hidan lies, though he literally holds Kakuzu’s heart in his hands - in his mouth, in his throat, in every single stitch that has ever been pushed through his skin. He grins, running a hand through his hair, over the rim of his ear, to the strings on his cheek. “Jashin just showed me something really cool, is all.”

Kakuzu rolls his shoulder in discomfort. “Your mouth has healed too well.”

“Thanks to you~” Hidan singsongs, in a way that never fails to infuriate his partner.

“Next time, I won’t bother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Kakuzu.”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

Their conversation is broken by a caw—a raven crashes out of the trees in a burst of red leaves. A maple scent hangs heavy in the air, sweet and rotten. This would be an excellent place for a ritual, he thinks. Two sacrifices, a partner beholden to him and the will of god, and black feathers scattered about the circle. Too bad that Kakuzu wants the bounties alive.

What a shame. Maybe next time, then.

“You’re really going to hell, huh.” Hidan thumbs his rosary, lifts it up to his lips. Jashin whispers to him from the carnal metal. “Guess I gotta pray for you!”

“Please.” Kakuzu looks like he wants to bring a third body to the bounty station. “Don’t.”

Hidan smiles indulgently.

_Rage, rage, motherfucker. I want to see you at your lowest._

If he squints and tilts his head to the side, Kakuzu almost looks amused. But Hidan looks directly at Kakuzu, with a wide grin and wider eyes, because his partner? Frowning? At _him?_ Is the most beautiful damn thing on this goddamn world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I really love heart-themed things for these two....
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it~! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡
> 
> Catch me on Tumblr [ThatShipCat.](https://thatshipcat.tumblr.com)


	10. "They say that god resides in even the lowest of us.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kakuzu was Jashin all along." One night, a god plays with his follower in a test of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted for KakuHidaWeek 2018; Free Day.

The fire simmered in a dug out pit. It was on its death throes, cracking and spitting at the two missing nin. Hidan, head clouded with old, drowsy hymns, contentedly watched as the fire begged for its life.

This was the way of the world, see—to watch it flicker out was a blessing. His glee increased knowing that he himself would never fade, and better that he had another soul to keep him company, even if said company was a damned soul like Kakuzu.

_Speaking of the devil…_

Kakuzu lifted up another log and tossed it into the pit, reviving the dying fire in a burst of red-orange lights. The embers spiraled up in the air, with a thin trail of smoke following.

“What a buzzkill…man…” Hidan watched it evaporate into the tree line, disappointed. “Who do you think you are, huh? Just let it die.”

Kakuzu stares into the fire, eyes unreadable. The logs crackled like boiling bones, and it was the only sound between them for a long while.

“They say that god resides in even the lowest of us.”

Hidan rolled his eyes. His partner was annoying, especially lately—poking and prodding at Hidan and his faith, searching for weak points. If the Jashinist bothered to answer then Kakuzu would just retort and they would argue until one or the other snapped.

It was starting to piss him off. Seriously.

“What would you say,“ Kakuzu began to ask, “if I told you that your Jashin is in the body of a heathen?” His eyes burned with the reflection of the fire. Creation simmered beneath the surface. Destruction too.

It was way, way too bright for Hidan. He looked away.

“I’d say you’re spoon feeding me a crock of shit,” he lazily replied.

Kakuzu made something of an amused grunt. The two stayed silent.

This time when the fire began to droop, Kakuzu stood up and kicked dirt over it.

It was, after all, the way of the world.


	11. "You’re giving me a migraine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re giving me a migraine." An average Jashinist sacrifice gets interrupted by a heart beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: Sacrifice, Heart, and Heart Beast.

The Land of Waves is a poor man’s country, from the tips of its skeletal trees, down to the muddy road soggy with tiny, shoeless footprints.

Hidan piped up. “Who are we guarding again?”

“Gato,” Kakuzu grunted.

“Oh, Jashin hates him. I hate him. Everyone hates him!”

“He pays well,” Kakuzu steadily replied, not disagreeing.

“See?” Hidan huffed in annoyance. “That's why you’re going to hell.”

After that the two did not talk, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps. Loud. Heavy. An adult, rather than a wretched Waves child.

Hidan couldn’t help his pleased smile.

“Wait,” Kakuzu ordered, pulling Hidan behind a tree just before he lunged.

“Hey— _hey.”_

_**“Wait.”** _

Hidan cursed, and crossed his arms. The two stood there, Kakuzu looming over the large scythe flipped to Hidan’s back, until their victim stepped forward, scrolls of wares and strings of coins swinging gently from their shoulder.

Five hearts start beating faster. Without looking, Hidan knows that the jingling ryō have caught his partner’s interest. He leans his head back into Kakuzu’s collar, voice low and teasing.

“You really get off on this, don’t you, Kakuzu?”

“Not as much as you,” Kakuzu retorted.

Hidan grinned again, and the two slunk along the trees to observe their latest victim: a well-off merchant, plump with inherited wealth. Hidan spots the silver woven into his victim’s robe and knows.  _Knows_. Oh, how Jashin loathes this excess. His heart sings with the truth of it, eyes widening in pleasure, then narrowing in the lazy way of a predator. He slows down to give Kakuzu a side eye, and bares his teeth at the answering nod.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Within seconds blood has been drawn. In minutes, Hidan assumes the cursed form. Kakuzu moves off to the side to pick through the merchant’s belongings, and Hidan splits his sternum open with what Deidara calls a “glorified toothpick, hmm.”

The injury transfers. Voodoo, some would say.

His victim gasps and chokes and coughs for breath, Hidan prays in accompaniment. All-together, the groans and hymns make a god-awful choir, and even the large amount of cash wasn’t  enough to distract Kakuzu from the ensuing headache.

He had no choice, then.

Kakuzu shrugged off the shoulder of his cloak, revealing two ivory masks affixed to his stitch-covered upper back. One was painted with lightning-bright yellow, while the other had an round snout outlined in red. The latter clicked its teeth, a spark of ember flashing off as it did so.

It was the red mask that exited of Kakuzu’s skin. Bulging up and straining to exit the flesh, threads crept out of his seams and wove themselves into spindly limbs. The mask and its shadows crawled down Kakuzu’s back with spider legs; by the time it ambled onto the priest, it was a fully formed beast, nearly three times the size of an average man.

Hidan abruptly stopped praying as the mask settled on his chest. Grinning eerily at the man beneath him, it made several clicking noises in greeting, nudging Hidan playfully.

“Uh.... Kakuzu.” His head poked out of the mass of strings as if it were a full fur coat. “—not that I’m complaining or anything, but, uh...”

Kakuzu nonchalantly put his cloak back on. “You always complain,” he pointed out, and returned to counting his money.

“Eheheh, no, you got me all wrong. See, that was just friendly advice. Helping your elders and all that.”

The red mask spat fire in Hidan’s face.

“What the—?!?”

“You’re giving me a migraine,” the treasurer said. Coins clinked as he set aside one string of ryō, pulling out a ledger to scribble down a note. The mask chirped, body opening up to fully engulf Hidan’s head.

It was all quiet after that.


	12. “I do bad things. I do them well."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidan treats himself to a little TLC - torturing at his leisure, with cigarettes. It doesn't end as well as he thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I do bad things. I do them well," with Hidan and Kakuzu for @edgyjim. 
> 
> I had a little trouble thinking of the concept, but then I got inspired to do this!

Hidan doesn’t indulge himself too often, but here he is. Sitting back against a splintered cargo box, head tilted back, smoke billowing out of his mouth. It curls up into the shapes of monsters, fanged and clawed.

They tell him to do many things.

Horrific things.

He doesn’t indulge them too often, either.

Somewhere unseen, rain drips down from a hole in the warehouse shingles, pitter-pattering onto the concrete floor. Hidan flicks the ash on the end of his cigarette away. “From dust, to dust,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair; dark-rooted, but grey as the ash below. There is a low energy about him as he languidly stands up, casually pacing to a moonlit chair in the middle of the warehouse, and black-haired man glaring at him from its rusted seat, biting down hard on a spit- and dirt- stained rag.

Stopping before the chair, Hidan looks down at him with a lazy smirk, lifting the cigarette up to take another drag. The tip swells bright orange, glowing over both their faces. “These things will kill you, Kakuzu."  
  
A second later Kakuzu lets out a muffled grunt, shoulder marked with a fresh burn, clustered along a hive of similar wounds, puckered with age. A crumpled cigarette falls to the floor, next to tobacco and paper filters on a pile of burnt refuse. He makes a note to clean up after himself later.  
  
“Whoops," Hidan airily comments, pulling out another pack of smokes. "Did that hurt? So damn sorry.”

Kakuzu gives him a blotchy purple sneer. Eyes furrowed, sclera red from the smoke, irises green like sin. A thief through and through. Down to his very essence.

“See, Kakuzu? I go to church. Help out at the dog shelter. Say my grace three times daily.” Hidan closes his eyes, cupping a zippo in his hand. _C-click._ “You may be wondering what a nice-lookin’ fellow like me is doing in a dump like this. Y’know. ‘side from the obvious.”  

Stubborn, Kakuzu locks his jaw around the makeshift gag, and his gaze with the tormentor above him. Behind his back, blistered fingers pick at a massive tangle of ropes, just as tangled and illogical as the man who tied them; the same man who observes it all with a cool, amused eye.

“Well. To make a long story short... I get in these moods. Fucking—black and red, looney tunes, a few plates short, screws-loose...what do you doctor types call it? Dissociat— break? Psychotic break? Something like that. Whatever. You’re catching what I’m throwing right? Right. Yeah, you get it.”

Pocketing the lighter, Hidan breathes in the cloying scent of nicotine. This time when he exhales, he blows smoke rings into the air. “So what I’m trying to say is, I’m a good guy, but sometimes I can’t help it. I do bad things. I do them well. You fucked with Jashin. I do them even fucking better.”

There is no sigh of relief when the worst knot loosens. Not when Kakuzu discreetly reaches down for the pocket knife strapped to his ankle. Celebration can wait for a time when he is _not_ trapped by a fucking lunatic bent on his destruction.

The metal whispers as the blade slips out of its sheath. Hidan perks up.

”Hear that?” he says, voice low and cold.

Kakuzu pushes down the instinct to freeze, and instead slaps on a confused expression.

He never was a good actor.

Nonetheless, it appeases his idiot captor. Hidan glances away, pale eyes flitting over the coal-stained walls, to the puddle of water spreading across the floor. Outside, the soft rain booms into a storm. Kakuzu takes the opportunity to use the noise as cover, sawing through his bindings. The serrated blade hums in his ear, loud as a chainsaw.

“Do you hear that?” Hidan snaps his head towards the prisoner, gaze distant. “That’s god, weeping. Angels raise their arms, and _roar_ with brass and heaven behind them. And….oh man.  The heralds. _The heralds._ Talking so much shit about your mom.”

The ropes fall down.

Kakuzu bolts up, ducks down, and swings his chair at Hidan. The man goes flying with aa shout—crashing against the stack of warehouse boxes. Hidan immediately scrambles up, clutching his head and moaning. He shakes away the pain and stumbles forward, slowly grinning.

 _“Fu-ck-er,”_ Hidan croons. “You’re so, so dead! Really! I swear! Seriously!”

Kakuzu throws the chair at the other, following it up with a bladed lunge. Hidan dodges the first, is clipped by the second, spinning away with a laugh. He darts around a stack of crates, drops of red scatter in his path. Ripping the gag out of his mouth, Kakuzu spits out blood.

“Not if I get you first,” he fires back, putting the knife back into his ankle sheath. He tightens his hand into fists; knuckles whitened, nails sharp against his palms. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands!”

Hidan only cackles in response.


	13. "Then confess."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Then confess." Father Kakuzu is tormented by his (least) favorite parishioner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for a mini discord event, Prompt: "Saints and Sinners and Lace." - I extended it into a small one shot on a whim. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

The Confessional shuddered as the door slammed shut. Afternoon light trickled into the booth, swirling through the upset dust particles, and creating a diamond-shaped pattern on the wall. The parishioner huffed as he entered, absentmindedly checking his appearance—polo tucked, hair back, buttons polished—before settling on the plush confessional seat.

Opposite him was a partition with lace cutouts, and a wine-red curtain behind it. He had the wild thought that this curtain was truly evil, as it barred him from what could be his salvation.

“Father Kakuzu!” he greeted congenially. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A slow and hesitant hand reached out and untied the curtain between the two, revealing a certain parishioner’s face, squished against the lattice as he strained to see the priest.

“...Hidan,” Kakuzu deadpanned.

Hidan smiled sheepishly.  “Uhhh… Hi?” His fingers waved through the gold leafed bars of the window.

“Hello.”

“How are you?”

“ _Fine_.” Overterse. Kakuzu privately reminded himself to be civil.  “...and yourself?”

Hidan beamed, extremely pleased at his apparent interest. He flopped back into the plush seat as if it were a throne. “I’m fucking fantastic - thank you for asking.”

“Language,” Kakuzu half-heartedly admonished, as he had a hundred times prior.

“English, obviously.”

It is the hundredth time Hidan had made that joke, and the thousandth time that he had peeked through the confessional window, ears perked, with the same sort of rapt attention that he gave the Sunday services. It would be endearing if he was not so annoying.

This time Kakuzu did sigh.

“You’re here to confess, aren’t you? Just - just get on your knees.”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice, father.” Hidan laughs, as he always does, and descends until only his upper body was visible through the partition window. There is a soft ruffle of fabric as Hidan’s kneecaps sink into the plush pillow.

“Forgive me Father, I have sinned. It has been almost a month since my last confession.”

“It’s only been a week.”

Hidan blinked at him.

“You come every Sunday,” Kakuzu elaborated.

“Ah.” Hidan’s good cheer faltered. “It’s been a while since you’ve been on Sabbatical, Father…”

Kakuzu paused. Since the Church had assigned him to this parrish a year and a half ago,  Hidan had gone to confession, attended all sermons, and donated money to every cause (which the Father had discretely pocketed later). He came in for morning and evening prayers, weekdays and weekends, and kneeled before the altar like it alone could grant his peace to his troubled heart. Eyes locked onto the crucified statue before him, he recited the Revelations with such a resonance to his voice, such unrestrained glee on his face.

He was clearly a devoted man, if Kakuzu had ever known one. For someone like Hidan to stumble in his faith… it was enough to make even his brows raise.

“You’ve missed church for an entire month?”

“Wh-wha!? No fucking way!”

The two winced as the shout escaped from the Confessional. When the last profane echo had died out, a hush had fallen across the cathedral hall. Then, the line of people waiting to confess began buzzing with gossip. Kakuzu, feeling the judgemental stares of his fellow clergymen drill into him, leaned into the partition and hissed, _“Hidan!”_

Three inches from his face, Hidan blanched. He gulped once, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing, and assumed a shaky smirk.

“That is, what I meant to say was, uh.” His fingers tapped a nervous pattern against the wooden wall. “I haven’t missed church - just confession. You know how it is, with the other priests…”

“I am painfully aware of how much they despise you.” Kakuzu narrowed his eyes, gaze burning through the window bars. “That does not matter and you know it.”

Hidan deflated, mouth curving weakly at the edges. “Right, right.”

“You should not let your personal feelings interfere with your faith. Recite an Act of Contrition.”

Hidan scowled and glanced away, unable to stomach the intense glare of the priest. “Yes, Father.”

He tugged at his over starched collar, pulling out his rosary from under his shirt. Wrapping the beads tightly around his fingers, he kissed the cross, closed his eyes, and began to beg god for forgiveness. The prayer was unusually well-practiced, even for him.

With his light hair and glowing violet eyes, he seemed to Kakuzu as an angelic creature; a holy demon; a saint who occasionally dabbled in sins, if only to better understand the vicious world which the Lord had created for him. In other words—

—a total heathen.

Kakuzu allowed him a moment to finish his Hail Marys before he spoke again, this time in a lower, hushed voice. “You did something while I was away.”

“...yeah. Kinda.” Hidan muttered.

“Something embarrassing.”

“Yeah.” Hidan grew more and more anxious as the priest scrutinized him through the window bars. Fingers counting rosary beads, hands clutching the cross, face reddened with a hint of humiliation.

“Shameful.”

Hidan fumbled his rosary, a deep flush spreading across his neck and through the screen separating the two. In fact, the air around Hidan was uncomfortably warm, so much so that Kakuzu had to draw back into his seat and push up his sleeves, white and thick with fine gold embroidery.

“Then confess,” Kakuzu said, “so that God may forgive you, and I can get on with my day.”

Thus prompted, Hidan launched into his usual diatribe of sins. He wanted to slash Father Kabuto’s tires because he ignored Hidan when he asked where Kakuzu was. He got angry at the grocery clerk for staring at him funny for buying twenty pounds of steak. He was “fucking furious” at his landlord for raising the rent, and had entertained thoughts of killing the man, even fantasizing about the various ways that he would dispose of the body - not that Kakuzu blamed him.

And then Hidan continued: His “stupid fucking roommate” had a yappy dog which he had a strong urge to kick; his ex-girlfriend had tempted him with makeup sex, which he refused on the basis that he was fully committed to the church (giving Kakuzu a meaningful look); and that he had thought of committing a plethora of crimes, including but not limited to shoplifting, murder, vandalism, grand larceny, murder again, and kidnapping. At the mention of the last considered felony, he gave Kakuzu another one of those meaningful looks, which the Father dutifully ignored, paying too much attention to the grumbling parishioners outside his booth. Dissatisfied customers.

“—you should’ve _seen_ this asshole’s face—”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes.

Hidan was not repentant. Not even a little.

Looking at his watch (Rolex), the priest decided that Hidan had gone on long enough. “Stop.”

“And I—wait. What?”

“We’re done here,” Kakuzu informed him. “Fast for three days, rid yourself of these urges. Come back and confess when you’re feeling more remorseful.” _And perhaps seek counseling,_ he silently added, when Hidan tried to argue again. “No. Neither I nor heaven has the patience to listen to someone who brags about his sins. You will fast.”

“But I didn’t—”

“I don’t care. _Fast._ ” Hidan did not respond to platitudes. This cruelty was kindness, in a way. “If you’re tempted, kneel on rice until your knees chafe.”

With a curse and a stomp, Hidan slinked out of the booth, allowing Kakuzu to wave in the next parishioner with a weary hand.

It wasn’t until hours later that the Father realized that the parishioner not said what he had done—what horrible act he had committed, that even weighed down the guileless, guilt-ridden Hidan. He tapped his pen against his resignation letter, turning over the interaction in his head, eventually concluding that some things were better left unsaid.

From a man like Kakuzu, for a man like Hidan, it was the best that could be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It's been a while since I wrote KakuHida, so I fear I've gotten a bit rusty. Leave a kudos or comment if you can?
> 
> My [Tumblr](thatshipcat.tumblr.com).
> 
> My [PillowFort](pillowfort.io/thatshipcat).


End file.
